229 Servant of the Axe – Setting Sail

Chapter Type: Character Development, Time Skip

We had spared no expense on the undocking ceremony; in retrospect we should have double checked the hull integrity. Every ship coming out of drydock has at least one leak that needs to be repaired.

All that progress I made over the winter months? Gone. Soaked up by Uses per Day for Meld Wood.

Even then, it wasn’t until the next day that the Outrage was deemed fit to bear crew. Because of the tides, it wasn’t until that night that we set sail.

It would, literally, be weeks before I was done with the leaky areas below decks, and able to get to work on the deck itself.

One might think that a single piece of solid wood makes for a better deck, but it just isn’t so. For something that large, expanding and contracting, it would just break apart and need to be pitched together anyway. Better that those breaks happen at regular, linear intervals.

And explaining to the crew that I couldn’t do the same thing with ropes was not a comfortable discussion. Ropes aren’t wood, and magic doesn’t care about the logical details.

So, there was pitching and holystoning and swabbing.

“There’s no bear, Rhishi.” Kismet complained. “We can’t get large swathes of the deck at once without one.”

.....

For those who have forgotten, the bear is a fifty pound or more square of limestone; a holystone so large that it takes two people to manage it. It gets its name from the growling sound it makes while being pushed across the deck.

And yes, the process of holystoning and swabbing took us half the day. Captain Orlean (Furdish of descent, fiery of temper, and lacking of diplomacy) found this to be acceptable.

“It is unusual that you choose to work among the crew.” He said, on our second day out of port.

“If the Outrage is moving me across the ocean faster than I can swim, the least I can do is help maintain her.”

“Have you ever poured pitch?”

Let me explain this trap. Pouring pitch is done in the dark hours before dawn, on a rocking boat (or worse), and all the while the bucket is in your hands, the pitch is cooling down. And that pitch needs to be poured exactly, or you get a lump that requires a thorough holystoning.

Multiply this by the sheer size of the deck, and it takes a crew of people the entire shift to do.

“I lack the required temperament,” I said, “and leave too many bumps. I can do it, but the crew won’t be thanking me for my work in the morning.”

“It seems the sort of thing that could be avoided with that magic of yours.”

I explained my concerns about doing so, but Orlean was having none of it. He had heard, correctly, that Water mana could be converted to Wood, and elemental Wood into divine Nature.

The good part is that there was abundant Ocean mana from the ocean, which was Water mana. And the rest, as I’ve stated often enough, is like pouring liquid metal in a forge. Magic is not something that takes to industry, to repeating the same task over and over again. It is fundamental chaos, and chaos wants to be DIFFERENT.

Oh, and be careful with Nature. Having wood fibers throughout your hands HURTS. Accidentally welding yourself to a wooden deck and leaving behind a layer of skin and scale... but you get the idea.

On its best days, magic is not tame; it is never entirely safe to work with.

A curse upon you, bards and singers and writers of stories, that you make so many people think otherwise.

But, that out of my System, the Makura were in a good mood, even if they dickered over the training like a clan of fishwives. The people... the Makura tried to BUY people from us, and I wondered if the founding members of the Makura Bay village had been settlers or slaves.

The villagers themselves seemed... disinterested, as though concern and joy and desire had been washed from their lives, and all that remained was the actions of survival. Even those, they seemed to perform only grudgingly. It was bad enough, seeing it in the adults. To see children so afflicted...

“If they weren’t trying to buy people, these would be a good folk to take slaves from.” Madonna told me.

“It HAS been too long since I’ve beaten you with the flog.” I replied. “These people are broken.”

Kismet nibbled on her nails, sharpening her teeth and claws on each other. “We can’t fix everything, but yeah, I can see why people don’t like Makura.”

I blinked. How was THAT Kismet’s takeaway from what I said? Was I communicating clearly?

“Pre-broken slaves are sometimes the best slaves.” Madonna said sourly.

I clicked my talons together. “Wife, focus. Do you have a way of locating the Ermine Cloak once we get to the Daurian island?”

“My eyes.”

Kismet blinked. “Because wards versus magical detection?”

“Exactly.” Madonna said.

“Madonna, if you know anything else about the location of the concealed tomb, we need to know that now.”

“About twenty years ago, the Ermine Cloak was brought to the island by the wife of one of the officers. She died, and the cloak was interred with her in a tomb that was not a tomb.” Madonna said. “That’s all I was told about it... no, wait, alternating stripes of white and brown.”

“Twenty years ago?” I asked.

“About then.”

“About the time you were born?”

She spread her hands in frustration. “I was born SPECIFICALLY for this task. If I succeed, there may be others. If I fail, another will be born to complete the task. I’ve said this.”

Kismet spat over the railing. “That’s a shit reason for having a kid.”

“As the person living that life, I assure you I find it quite adequate.” Madonna said.

“Ladies, is there something I should know about?”

“No.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Well, then, let’s be ready to get aboard the boat. It looks like Gamilla managed to trade for something.”

“Oh, it looks like she’s managed to trade for someone.” Madonna said, skipping over to her.

What? I made my way over to the boat to meet her.

“Gamilla? Are we in the slave trade?”

“Just a passenger, and she’s going the same direction we are. But... can you keep her quiet until we get back to the ship? Use your mental powers, or something?”

I set a hand on the fussy child. “Slumber. Gamilla, this is needlessly risky.”

She snapped her body around to look right at me. “It is NEEDFULLY risky. This child can live free of... of this place.”

“Did you grow up a slave?”

“Not a slave, no. And my background isn’t for you to pry into. All YOU need to worry about are the skills and abilities that I use on your behalf. How would you feel if I asked when you return to the Red Tide Empire?”

“When my mission is completed, or when Rakkal summons me.”

“Rhishi? I don’t mean to be a nudge, but my contract ends kinda soon.”

“Ugh.” Said Gamilla, “That thing.”

“What thing?” Kismet asked.

“Your Guild of the Stupidly Long Name has a number of hidden fees and charges. I’m sure they’ll find a way to surcharge us for the cost of paper.”

“Surcharge... Rhishi, did you re-up my contract?”

“As soon as we got here.” I said. “Once I understood how long it takes just to travel... AAARGH! My EYE!!”

historical

This last bit, of course, I said because Kismet had somehow crossed the distance between us, and palm-slapped my right eye.

“Kismet,” I said, “That is NOT cool. Please stop that.”

“It doesn’t hurt you, it just causes you pain.” She said.

Madonna chuckled. “Yeah, stop being a baby.”

“I don’t feel that I’m being unreasonable here.”

“Nor do I.” Kismet said. “You’ve known about this extra time for OVER A YEAR and not told me? How do you think that makes me feel? Like a valued member of the team? No, it makes me feel like smacking you in the eye. So, I did.”

“It’s not like you didn’t deserve it.” Madonna said.

“Gamilla?” I asked.

“Not with a pole longer than the mast. I know what those two are capable of when they get together. You are their employer and their husband, respectively. You work out your own personal issues.”

How badly HAD I offended her, asking about her background? Should I apologize?

“Employers who RESPECT their employees let them know about their contracts.” Kismet said.

“Name one other employer who would tolerate you hitting them in the eye.”

“No, you don’t get to turn this around on me. Why am I here? It’s because we’re friends.”

It’s because the guild thought I’d wanted you when what I really wanted...

But, not all truths need to be spoken.

The Guild of Guardsmen, Porters, Drovers, and Linkboys, the people who literally tortured me... twice.